by Jenna Kernan
“Can I talk you out of this?”
Her look held vexation and disbelief. “Not a chance.”
“Then I’m coming.”
Bess took the lead up the trail that cut away from the river and climbed steadily along the hill, under the dappled light streaming through the canopy high above them. She gave Cesar credit. For an urbanite, he certainly had an easy, tireless stride. The remains of the deer were easy to spot from the buzzing clouds of flies feasting on the carcass and the odor of decay. But Cesar did not see the deer, and so she called it to his attention. The infant killers had dragged the carcass half under the trunk of a fallen redwood with scars that showed it had survived a fire. As long as the blaze did not burn the tree’s thick bark completely off, they endured. She admired them that and their ability to remain seemingly unchanged by the centuries.
“This is the area of the attack.”
They spent the next half hour studying the ground, but Cesar was no tracker and she always relied on her vision to find food. Cesar leaned against the toppled trunk that was so huge she would have needed a twelve-foot ladder to even consider sitting on it.
Cesar drew out his handkerchief and offered it to her. She shook her head and he shrugged, then used the cotton cloth to swab the sweat from his brow.
He rested a hand on the tree, absently fingering the ridged bark. “What does it look like—the Spirit Road?”
Bess smiled, allowing him the temporary departure. He’d not keep her from saying what she must this time. “The way is a shimmering silvery path, a little like this one.” She indicated the hiking trail. “Only paved in sparkling pinpricks of light that resemble sunlight on dark water. Like water, I can see through to the space beneath. If I stray from the path, I am only in the sky again. I must keep the Ghost Road under me at all times, or lose my way.”
“Can you see it now?
“No. Night is best. It takes longer to find in the daylight.”
She glanced to the sky and saw something large and tawny stalking Cesar from above. She acted on instinct, stepping between the crouching mountain lion and the cat’s intended prey.
Bess recognized the lioness for what she was, a Skinwalker and an old one. There was no doubt the cat recognized Bess, as well. She knew this for two reasons. She had made herself visible before the attack and she had not yet pounced. But she kept her intent green eyes fixed on Cesar. The menace in that look turned Bess’s skin to gooseflesh and she raised both hands to the big cat, knowing full well she was outmatched.
“Hold, sister. This is a friend.”
Behind her she heard Cesar draw and cock his pistol.
“Don’t move, Bess. I have a shot.”
The situation was rapidly spinning out of control. Bess whirled on Cesar. “She’s a Skinwalker. Put down your weapon.”
He hesitated, his eyes registering surprise, then something else. If she did not know better she’d say it was dread. The hairs on Bess’s neck rose up as a feeling of premonition brought her to complete stillness. Cesar lowered his pistol and released the slide, but he did not return the weapon to his shoulder holster.
Behind her there was a flash of white light. She turned to see a woman, who appeared to be middle-age, meaning she was likely over three hundred, with platinum-blond hair, a jowly face and eyes as green as an alfalfa field. Her choice of clothing was ironic, as she wore a leopard-print scarf knotted about her throat and an orange silk blouse on top. Her crouched legs were sheathed in tawny faux suede slacks and her footwear consisted of slipperlike flats that echoed the leopard print of her scarf. Now she looked like the other sort of cougar. The cat remained on the higher ground, poised above them, with one hand resting between her bent knees. She still stood prepared to strike. Bess knew that the Skinwalker could pounce and transform into her cat form before her claws ripped into Cesar’s flesh.
“Step aside, sister, I have hunted this one for fifty years. Today I kill him.”
“Get back, Bess,” Cesar ordered.
She didn’t. Instead she lowered her hands, still facing the puma. “Why him?”
“He killed my husband for a crime he never committed. Shot him before my eyes.”
Bess’s insides were bathed in icy cold, freezing her to the spot. She could not seem to draw any air and spots rapidly began a threatening dance in her vision. She glanced back at Cesar, expecting—no, hoping for—a denial.
Oh, Great Spirit, it was the worst of her fears come true. He was a vigilante, just like the one who had killed her father, and she had worked with him, aided him, slept with him.
Chapter 14
“They each shot him. This one brought him down and his partner finished him. I told their Council, but who did this one believe?” The cougar slowly leaned forward as if she were falling gently into her pounce as she whispered her words in a chant.
The low feral growl vibrated through Bess’s ribs and sternum.
“Stand aside, sister, for I will taste his blood.”
The world seemed to press down upon her, making Bess feel heavy, barely able to move. She could hardly think and when she found herself so bewildered, she turned to instinct.
“No.”
The cat never took her eyes off her prey as she spoke. “I have no quarrel with you, raven. You may go. Walk in beauty.”
Bess could not explain why she did not do as she was told. The cougar was clearly stronger and if it came to a fight, Bess would certainly lose. Still she could not leave Cesar to the cat. One of them would die, by bullet or claw.
“I can’t do that. This Soul Whisperer is helping me find the children of Nagi.”
The cat hesitated. She used the back of her hand to wipe her cheek as if smoothing whiskers that were no longer there, as her attention flicked to Bess.
“I have seen these creatures in the forest, but I did not know what they were. It explains the smell of death that clings to them.”
“Did they see you?”
She smiled. “Of course not.”
“Do not let them. They can fly.”
She nodded. “I will be cautious.”
“One attacked me.”
“I heard your distress, but could not get to you before you left the forest.”
“This Niyanoka saved me and is helping us fight Nagi.”
The cat’s pencil-thin eyebrows rose. “I have no fight with Nagi. But if these creatures are hunting in my territory, I have a fight with them.”
“They are deadly,” Bess warned. “Vicious. Extremely fast.”
The cat lowered her voice to a near purr. “Then we are well matched. If I kill one, do you want me to call you, little raven?”
“Yes.”
“I would still kill this one.”
Bess moved before Cesar and prepared to fight a losing battle.
The cat smiled and fixed her green eyes upon Bess. “But not at the expense of your life, little sister. I respect the old ways and would not kill a raven. You may go and the killer may go.” Her smile vanished as she glared her hatred at Cesar. “But if our paths cross again, I will kill you. My mate was a good husband and I will yet have my revenge. And you, little one, should be wiser than to protect our enemies.”
The brilliant flash made Bess cover her eyes. When she looked again the cat was gone.
Bess felt Cesar’s betrayal like a knife thrust in her sternum. The ache filled her lungs, making it hard to draw breath. She turned back to face him, waiting as he holstered his weapon. When he was done, he did not look at her, but instead rubbed the back of his neck with his shooting hand and stared at the ground.
It was true then.
“You killed a Skinwalker?”
“Yes.”
“So that talk of turning my people over to our justice was a lie.”
“There’s more to it than that.”
“Vigilante.” Bess pressed her hand to her mouth as if the sight of him made her physically sick. “I would leave you here, but I’m afraid if I do, she’ll kill y
ou. Let’s go.”
Bess marched back the way she had come, hoping he was wise enough to follow. How could she have believed him? Lies upon lies upon lies. Bess pressed her eyes closed against the burning, wishing she could find relief in tears as she had done before the change. But this was something ravens could not do.
What difference was there between him and the men who killed her father?
None, she realized. She had let the unnatural attraction between them cloud her judgment and make her vulnerable to his deceit. Shame heated her face.
It was a long, angry, silent walk back to his vehicle. Bess could barely see past her fury, but she did not stop until they reached the parking area.
Once there Bess waited, with folded arms, praying he would have the sense to get in his damned car and drive away. She didn’t want him to see how much this betrayal crushed her and she scrubbed her hands over her burning cheeks.
All the while she thought they were working together, he was using her.
“Bess, please let me explain.”
“You are no better than the killers who took my father.”
“It was a mistake. My mistake.”
“And mine.”
He reached for her, but she was too fast. He let his arm drop back to his side.
He hesitated. “I don’t want to leave you here unprotected.”
Her laugh held no humor. “I’d be safer with Nagi’s children than with you. At least they have not yet killed one of my kind.”
“Come with me.”
She shook her head. “This is my home. I mean to take it back, but this time, I’ll do it without you.”
“Bess, please…”
“Get in your car, Cesar, and drive back to your world. I never want to see you again.”
“No.” He held his hands out before him as if offering himself. “Bess, I don’t want to lose you.”
“You already have.”
Bess pressed her hand to her chest, summoning the power which roared through her. A moment later she was high in the tree branches, looking down on the tiny man beside the blue car. He stood with his hand across his eyes like a visor, staring up at her. Then he was gone.
Such an easy matter to leave him behind, but she feared forgetting him would be harder. She could not trust this Spirit Child. Now she would turn to her own kind.
Bess headed for Nicholas’s place in Montana. If she were to have help fighting Nagi’s children, that was the place to start. Hopefully his new Niyanoka bride had not settled him too much, for if anyone liked a hunt, it was a wolf.
Nagi, ruler of the Circle of Ghosts, stood in the center of the revolving whirlwind of souls unworthy to enter the Spirit World. Now and then a white wisp of a soul leaped upward, like smoke caught in the draft of a fireplace flume. These were the ones redeemed by the prayers of the living.
But no matter, enrollment always exceeded attrition and his Circle only increased in size. He watched the arriving souls drop from the Spirit Road, like comets, their light extinguished upon reaching the slow tread-mill of his world. They called to him for mercy, of course, but he had none to give. If he had to be here, they had to be here. He cared nothing for their suffering.
But one soul was persistent; she called that she knew him, that she had done as he asked and carried his children at the cost of her life. Nagi summoned her from the Circle, permitting her a moment of rest as the others swept endlessly on. He recalled her now, a strong soul, very dark and past redemption when he had found her in the living world.
“What is it you say?” he hissed.
He could have sworn that she thought, They live.
Nagi had planned to check back on the three dozen or so females whom he had chosen to carry his seed. But it had only been a few months. That was not long enough for such plantings to bear fruit. Was it? Time was so different here than on the earthly plane, but was it possible he had lost track?
He looked at the soul, a woman who he had found in prison for arson. She was strong and willing and so he had taken a small part of himself and planted it in her womb.
He read her next thought clearly. Twins.
The elation lifted him from the center of his Circle. The soul cried out for mercy, but he swept her back with the others. She would serve her sentence like the rest, while he would see his children. How many where there? Would they know him on sight?
Nagi swept past Hihankara, the old crone who judged each soul that crossed on the Spirit Road and who threw the unworthy ones down into his perpetual Circle.
She noted his passing as she always did. How a creature as old as she was could see so perfectly in the dark was beyond him. But she was immortal, just like him. He did not like her and she did not trust him.
He soared past her, making her duck. She threw her shock wave after him, the one that cast even the most tenacious souls from her path, but it did no more than give him a pleasant sensation of cool. Not even the old crone could spoil his mood.
They lived.
Nagi was elated at at his success. His seeds had born fruit, growing into a living creatures, with physical bodies. They would grow and be his army and he might yet rule two worlds, that of the condemned souls and that of the living world. Nagi needed to see his off-spring, now. So he swept through the veil dividing the Spirit realm from the living world.
Bess flew low over the tree line and out across open fields beneath cloudy skies in the late afternoon. This part of Montana had not received notice that spring had arrived, judging from the frost forming on the blades of grass along the fence where five horses grazed in bucolic bliss.
Bess tilted her wings and glanced at the ranch belonging to Nick Chien and a Dream Walker named Jessie Healy. It so resembled Jessie’s old home it took a moment to recall that after the battle, Nicholas and Jessie could not return to her home for fear Nagi would find them again and that this was a new location. The grass remained yellowish with no sign of new growth, looking much the same as it had in the fall when last she visited. Despite appearances, much had changed since then.
Her old friend and once lover had finally found his alpha female. Funny, really, because after he’d looked among all the Skinwalkers, he’d decided he was destined to be a lone wolf. And then he’d fallen, mortally wounded, into the hands of an enemy. And instead of killing him, she had healed him.
Bess was happy for him. Admittedly, what she and Nick had shared had been more of a cry against the loneliness than a love affair. He sought her out twice and she had come to him once. The mating had been physically satisfying and emotionally upsetting. It had strained their friendship and that tension remained. The momentary comfort was not worth losing a friend like Nick. She was most sorry for that and for telling Jessie about their past. It wouldn’t make for a warm welcome.
Bess landed on the roof of the barn and looked down on the horses foraging in the pasture at the already scoured grass. With the winter still frosting their breath, the mares retained their thick, shaggy coats.
Across the road lay Nick’s new home. Evening stole the colors, making the cheery yellow planking seem more ghostly white. The windows glowed golden and from time to time Nick or Jessie crossed before the kitchen window. Jessie paused at the sink and Nick stepped behind her, pinning her to the counter as he enfolded her in his arms.
Bess felt a stabbing surge of jealousy squeezing her heart, but not over losing Nick. What then?
The realization crept slowly over her as lightly as the tread of a mouse. Not jealousy, envy. She coveted what they shared, the easy camaraderie, the tender affection, the hope of many days and nights of true and lasting love. Did they know how blessed they were?
She folded her wings and nestled in to wait as the twilight crept toward evening. At last, Jessie left the house to see to her horses. They followed her eagerly along the fence, heads bobbing, hungry for grain. Bess flitted to the house. She found Nick in the garage, the door open and the lights on as he fiddled beneath the hood of a battered blue picku
p. She shook her head in disgust that he would waste his time on this. It was as if she didn’t even know him now.
She landed behind his truck, just outside of the circle of artificial light cast by the overhead bulb.
Before she even transformed, his head popped up as he scented the air. He had the ability to track anything that moved and so she was not surprised that his acute senses alerted him instantly to her arrival.
“Bess?” he called softly.
She stepped into the light of the garage.
“Please tell me that your silver Ferrari is in the shop.”
“Sold it.”
He rounded the fender, wiping his hands, that big, charming smile on his handsome face and his crystal blue eyes dancing with joy. Why couldn’t she love him the way Jessie did? He, at least, was of her own kind.
He hugged her tight, like a brother, and set her aside to look down at her face. “This is a wonderful surprise.”
“Not so wonderful,” she said, unable to muster a smile. She felt sad suddenly to realize that not only was he over her, but she was also over him.
He grew worried. “Sebastian and Michaela?”
“Safe. I do not contact them as I never know if the ghosts of Nagi are about. I will not make that mistake again.”
“You could fly to the Spirit Road and then to Sebastian as you once did.”
“If necessary. But I did not want to disturb them. They have young to raise.”
Nick gave her a funny sort of grin, filled with a giddy pleasure she did not understand. It made him look different.
“Come into the house. Let me tell Jessie you’re here.”
He started toward the door which led inside, but she placed a hand on his forearm, staying him. “I would speak to you alone.”
Nick’s smile vanished. His somber expression was familiar now. This was the Nick she remembered—cautious, driven and solitary.
He shook his head. “No.”
“But—”
“Whatever it is, you’ll have to tell me and Jessie together.”
